The next morning, Kotaru woke up to the sound of his usual alarm, but he remained lying in bed, staring at the ceiling for a few moments. A strange heaviness pressed against his chest, as if something wasn’t right. He reached for his phone and opened his messages, then sent one to his sister:

  "Good morning, are you awake?"

  He waited for a few minutes, but no reply came. He frowned slightly, then sent another message:

  "You’re not responding. Is everything okay?"

  The minutes passed slowly, and his phone remained silent. He sighed in frustration and slowly got out of bed, trying to ignore the worry creeping into his mind. Maybe she was just busy — that’s what he tried to tell himself as he got ready for another day at school.

  He left the house feeling unsettled, as if something had happened to his sister, but he had no evidence.

  He arrived at school, lost in his thoughts, trying to message her several more times, but she never replied.

  Hiroto approached him and sat beside him, waving a hand in front of his face:

  Hiroto: “Kotaru-kun! Heeey!”

  Kotaru turned toward him in silence, his eyes reflecting his tension. Hiroto noticed how pale he looked and asked with concern:

  Hiroto: “What’s wrong? You look really pale! Did something happen?”

  Kotaru remained silent at first, but Hiroto’s insistence finally made him speak.

  Kotaru: “Haaah… I’ve been texting my sister since morning, but she hasn’t replied.”

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  Hiroto: “Oh? You have a sister? That’s cool!”

  Kotaru shot him a sharp glare and said coldly:

  Kotaru: “This isn’t the time for that.”

  Hiroto: “Ah… sorry.” Then he asked, trying to calm him down, “Where do you think she went?”

  Kotaru: “I don’t know… She’s usually at our family house or at work, but she hasn’t replied to any messages.”

  He hesitated for a moment, then added in a low voice:

  Kotaru: “There’s something else too…”

  Hiroto: “What is it?”

  Kotaru: “That guy from yesterday… since this morning he’s been looking at me with this smug, provoking stare. I doubted it at first, thought maybe it was just my imagination.”

  Hiroto: “Why don’t you try contacting your family? Or maybe go home, she could be sick or something happened.”

  Kotaru hesitated before replying:

  Kotaru: “Yeah… maybe I should go home first.”

  After school, Kotaru left holding his phone, trying to message his sister again — but no luck. He thought to himself: I’ll go home first, then head to that house.

  But as he walked, a message came through — from an unknown number. He opened it to find a single sentence:

  "Your sister will be our feast tonight. We’ll enjoy her well."

  Kotaru’s eyes widened, and a cold chill ran through his body. Before he could even process the shock, another message arrived — this time a video. He pressed play, and saw his sister tied up, squirming as she tried to break free, screaming:

  “Get away from me! Don’t touch me!”

  Kotaru clenched his phone tightly, his breathing growing heavier. Moments later, another message arrived with a location pinned and the words:

  "If you still want to see her alive, come here."

  His body stiffened with rage. Fueled by hatred, he gripped his phone so tightly it shattered in his hand.

  He returned home. He didn’t turn on a single light. Everything was eerily quiet.

  He headed straight to his room, knelt down, and pulled out a long black box from beneath his bed. He opened it calmly, and the glint of a sharp blade reflected in his eyes.

  It was a katana — black-handled, razor-sharp, its edge undulled by time.

  He took it in hand, put on black clothing and leather gloves, and tied his hair back.

  He stood before the mirror for a moment, staring at his reflection with eyes clouded in hatred, and whispered to himself:

  “I’ll kill them all.”

  Then he left, heading toward the pinned location, ready for a night no one would walk away from.

  Under the darkness of night, Kotaru moved swiftly through the streets, following the location he had been sent. His steps were steady, but inside, he was boiling. He didn’t feel fear—only pure, unfiltered rage.

  Finally, he arrived at his destination — an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. He stood still for a moment, surveying the place. It was eerily quiet, save for faint light leaking through dusty windows.

  He pushed the metal door open silently, causing a faint creak. He stepped inside, his eyes scanning the space quickly. The air was thick with the smell of mold and rust, the floor littered with old debris.

  And then… he saw her.

  In the middle of the warehouse, his sister was tied to a chair, her body trembling, her eyes full of fear. Scratches marked her hands—probably from trying to break free.

  Surrounding her were fourteen people, laughing and talking as if they were at a party. Some held bats, others short knives.

  At their center sat a young man with dyed hair, perched on a metal crate, wearing a mocking smile. He looked at Kotaru as if he were just another piece of prey caught in their trap.